


Who's Got Game?

by softestlad



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Affair Era Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Getting Together, Jealous Robert Sugden, M/M, affair era fic, affair reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 07:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlad/pseuds/softestlad
Summary: Aaron didn’t play games. It wasn’t his style. At least, it didn’t used to be. But there was something about Robert that had Aaron at Snakes and Ladders, Battleship, Cluedo.And Twister. Couldn’t forget Twister.--Affair era fic involving Aaron's milkshake, jealous Robert, an ultimatum, and some OMCs with quality taste.





	Who's Got Game?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm hashtag not coping with canon right now. as much as i love those dumb beautiful husbands, it hurts to write them as they are now knowing what's coming :'(  
so instead i'm going to bury my head in the affair era sands, west of Denial

Aaron didn’t play games. It wasn’t his style. At least, it didn’t used to be. But there was something about Robert that had Aaron at Snakes and Ladders, Battleship, Cluedo.

And Twister. Couldn’t forget Twister.

But they were four _sorry-I-couldn’t-get-away _cancellations in and Aaron was ready to play. Beyond ready.

Robert and Chrissie were sitting together, his arm around the back of her seat as she sipped at a lust-red wine and presumably, told him about her day. Y’know, like wives and husbands do. Robert nodded in all the right places, offered grinning replies and sympathetic grimaces. To all outside observers, he was attentive, interested – but Aaron caught each glance Robert tossed his way, where he propped up the bar. Aaron looked good this evening, he knew he did. He got caught in a short windy spell on his way from Adam’s to the pub, and his hair had that windswept look to go with pinkened cheeks and mouth. It had made his eyes water, leaving them bright and alert, and he happened to be wearing a sweatshirt he knew Robert liked, if the way he tore it off him every time he saw him in it was anything to go by.

He was relaxed. Comfortable. It helped that the pub was busy and only getting busier as the night went on, so Chas’ normally watchful eye was a bit distracted. They were expecting a stag in soon, and Aaron unhurriedly sipped at his pint, steadfastly ignoring the beep in his pocket that he knew – he _knew, _somehow – would be a text from Robert. Tapped out under the table while his wife laughed at something he said.

Aaron resisted the guilty thrill it sent up his spine and kept at his pint. He waved over at Uncle Zak when he bustled into the pub, sitting in his customary place and offering Aaron a nod. Debbie skimmed past him at one point to borrow something from Chas, left out in the back room for her. Aaron just sat, drank his drink, and pretended he had no idea that Robert’s eyes strayed to him more than a cat to a bowl of cream.

“Hello,” a voice entered in from Aaron’s left, a well tailored coat and set of keys laid – presumptuously perhaps – across the bar.

“Eh, hi,” Aaron said, surveying the stranger quickly. Very nice charcoal grey pinstripe suit, black wavy hair styled like he walked straight off a shampoo ad, and brown eyes, all for Aaron. The man laughed, a small chuckle under his breath, and reached a hand forward to shake.

“Walter,” he said, a high brow London accent sparkling on his tongue. Aaron scoffed. “What?”

“Walter? Bit of an old man’s name ain’t it?”

“I’ll take it as a good sign that you don’t think it suits me then,” Walter returned, hand still extended. “What’s yours?”

Aaron shook Walter’s hand, the man’s palm as soft as his manner was refined.

“Aaron,” he said, going to pull away when Walter squeezed, not forcefully but playfully, hinting that Aaron’s touch had been too fleeting for his taste.

“Can’t fault that,” Walter leaned in confidentially. “Lovely name. Strong, masculine.” Walter stroked his index finger against Aaron’s palm and Aaron blushed at the unexpected attention. “Suits you.”

Aaron cleared his throat as Walter finally released his hand. It tingled, he couldn’t lie. Aaron crossed his arms, leaning up onto the bar and rolling his eyes when he caught his mum’s cheeky smile at the other end of the bar.

“So,” Walter said, undeterred. “What brings you here, _Aaron_?”

“She does, mostly,” Aaron said, nodding at Chas, who hurriedly looked away and started cleaning clean glasses. When Aaron looked back to Walter he noticed a flicker of disappointment. “Ugh, no,” Aaron shuddered, “s’my mum.”

“Ah,” Walter laughed breathily. “Good to know my chances aren’t scuppered from the outset,” he said. When Aaron didn’t reply, he looked unsure again. “Unless…”

Aaron opened his mouth to set the guy right, that he wasn’t really looking right now, when he caught Robert’s eye over Walter’s shoulder. He was staring, nostrils flaring ever so slightly, and Aaron could say over and over again that he didn’t like to play games, but he also didn’t like to be taken for granted. So he made a move.

“I’m gay,” Aaron clarified, probably too bluntly, averting his gaze with some will power from Robert to Walter, whose expression settled back into elegant confidence. “And even if I weren't, and she weren't my mum, she’s ancient.”

“You seem to have a bit of a preoccupation with age,” Walter teased, leaning in a bit closer now that he knew for sure he wouldn’t get a smack for his trouble.

“You seem to have a bit of a preoccupation with _me_,” Aaron said, leaning back. He’d spent months tailoring his flirting to Robert, but it felt good to talk like this with someone new, shake the cobwebs off his old skills.

“Problem?”

“No.”

“I’m not too old to meet your standards then?” he asked, the corners of his mouth tucking into a smile, showing off dimples.

“You can’t be more than – “

“Careful.”

“- thirty.”

“Thirty two,” Walter said, laughing freely. He had a nice laugh, full and genuine in a way Aaron couldn’t help but find endearing. A little sexy, even. “Do I pass inspection? Not too old then?”

“No,” Aaron said, and then, pushing himself to be daring, to play the game, dropped a hand below the bar to Walter’s knee. “Not if you can keep up.”

Walter grinned.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“Might be,” Aaron said, pressing his thumb into the side of Walter’s leg, his thigh firm under Aaron’s palm, tempered by the soft material of his suit. “So – “

Someone cleared their throat.

Aaron’s hand whipped away from Walter’s leg, and he turned to find Robert, bearing down over them. He was oozing his usual arrogance, but Aaron could see the glint in his eye. Something like venom, something like hurt. _Sore loser._

“Can we help you?” Walter said, and Aaron repressed a smirk at the affronted expression on Robert’s face.

“You can’t,” he said, rudely, then turned to Aaron. “I need a word.”

“I’m busy,” Aaron said.

“Right, well this is about business, so – “

“He can get busy with me later?” Walter interjected. He had a sharp eye, and if Aaron could tell, Robert probably could too, that Walter had clocked him. Robert narrowed his eyes.

“Presumptuous,” he said.

“Jealous?” Walter jabbed, and Robert gave himself away with the step back he was forced to take. His body turned rigid and Aaron wished he’d never come into the fucking pub. This is why he didn’t like to play games. Everyone always loses.

“I’m married,” Robert said.

“Well, I’m not.” Walter angled his body so that he was standing between Robert and Aaron, facing Aaron. “I’d love to take you out,” he said, low and private, as though Robert wasn’t glowering over his shoulder. Aaron wasn’t quite as casual, given that Robert was staring straight into his face.

“Bit quick,” Aaron said, “you don’t know anything about me.”

“I’d like to.” Walter pulled a card out of his wallet and passed it to Aaron. It felt like the kind of fancy paper wedding invitations got printed on, and Aaron suddenly worried about getting oil on it – mechanic’s habit. “Think about it,” Walter said, meaningfully. “_Aaron.”_

Aaron smiled, tucking his chin into his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding the card in his back pocket, noticing the way both Robert and Walter’s eyes tracked the stretch of his sweatshirt across his chest with the movement. “Yeah, I will do.”

Robert didn’t move, so Aaron stepped back so that Walter could leave, the older man brushing his hand down Aaron’s arm as he went. Aaron watched after him.

“Bit desperate.”

Aaron’s attention zipped back to Robert. “You what, mate?”

“Rich guy, flashing his Mclaren keys at you,” Robert sniffed. “Might as well have got up on the bar and – “

“And what, Robert? Danced with his top off, like all the other gays?”

Robert looked over his shoulder quickly left and right, checking for earwiggers, probably seconds out from doing something stupid like telling Aaron to keep his voice down.

“Just fuck off alright? Get out of my face.”

“Aaron, I – you can’t have wanted him?”

_Not like I want you._

“Why not, eh? He was fit, charmin’. Seemed interested in me, and not just for sex. Why shouldn’t I want him?” Robert’s mouth opened, then shut, the traitorous leap of Aaron’s heart plummeting into his stomach just as quick. “I’m serious, Robert, fuck off.”

“But – “

“Aaron, love?” Aaron and Robert both looked over to Chas, snowed under at the bar but still taking time to give Robert evils. The expected stag party had just rolled in the door, and Aaron would have laughed at the look of panic on his mum’s face if he’d been anywhere approaching in the mood. “Give us a hand would ya?”

Normally Aaron would resist, even just for form’s sake, but as it was he drained the last of his pint and moved to join her on the other side of the bar.

“Aaron – “ Robert started.

“’Nother glass of red?” Aaron asked. “For Chrissie?”

“She’s gone home.”

“Maybe you should too, then,” Aaron said, point blank. Robert looked chastened, and Aaron rolled his eyes when instead of leaving the pub, Robert pulled up one of the quickly filling seats, far enough away that Aaron could just about ignore him if he tried. And he did try.

Chas laid a hand on his shoulderblade and he tensed.

“Don’t,” Aaron said, cutting off any remarks at the pass. “You needed help, I’m helping. That’s it.”

Chas nodded. “Thanks, love.”

Aaron took a breath, felt Walter’s card burning a hole in his back pocket, and turned his attention to the punters.

“What can I get ya?”

*

The stag group was rowdy enough, six lads, all of about Aaron’s age, and the Woolpack one of many pubs on the night’s agenda by the sounds of things. Chas kept shooting alternating looks of gratitude and worry in Aaron’s direction, when she wasn’t too busy trying to incinerate Robert with her stare. He’d have given anything when he was younger to have someone looking out for him like that, someone protective and fierce. Careful what you wished for, he supposed, though he found himself biting down smiles as many times as rolling his eyes across the night.

Aaron kept himself busy pulling pints, the stag party swelling with boisterous noise, then simmering down into nudges and sly conversations in waves. Robert was sitting, nursing a pint alone, at the table next to them, and Aaron noticed him stiffen multiple times.

Good. A bit of discomfort or whatever it was he was feeling would probably do the smarmy git a world of good, nevermind that his frown reminded Aaron of the time Robert got a business call when he had Aaron’s cock in his mouth. He had pulled off, but kept the tip resting against his bottom lip while he talked to some investor, only hanging up when Aaron started taking things into his own hands.

A round of laughter from the stag party table pulled Aaron’s attention. They all seemed to be ganging up on one of their number, glancing over towards the bar, cajoling and laughing that particular deepened cackle that always seemed to emit from groups of lads when they were out together. The victim of their attention got a sharp elbow from his mate, who unsubtly pointed at Aaron. Aaron looked down, not quite able to believe what was happening. Again.

This sweatshirt must really be something.

The blushing lad stood from his seat while his jackal mates chanted his name, _CHAR-LIE, CHAR-LIE, CHAR-LIE. _

Charlie glared at them, enough fire in it that Aaron took a second look at him. As with the others, he was about Aaron’s age, but well above his height, standing at probably 6 foot 2 if he was an inch. He carried himself awkwardly, but he was well built, lean rather than thin, with broad shoulders like a swimmer. He approached the bar and drummed long fingers across it.

“’Nother round?” Aaron asked.

“Please, yeah,” Charlie said. Aaron started pulling the pints, Charlie watching him. He licked his lips, “I’m Charlie.”

“I’d gathered,” Aaron said, lightly. Charlie’s face flamed, and Aaron took pity on him. He seemed sweet, and it wasn’t his fault that Robert was sitting behind him in Aaron’s eyeline, barely bothering to hide his staring any more, now that Chrissie wasn’t there to notice her husband’s errant eye. “Aaron,” he said, setting one of the pints on a tray. “I’m guessing you’re not the groom, then?”

Charlie looked relieved when Aaron engaged, and shook his head. “Brother of,” he clarified. He hunched over the bar, resting on his elbows. “Well – half brother.”

“Is that what he gets demoted to when he drags you out just to take the piss?”

“Something like that.” Charlie watched Aaron arrange the remaining pints on the tray, wipe down the area around the taps, then toss the rag onto his shoulder. “Listen, I don’t know if – erm. This is going to sound daft, but eh.” Charlie scratched the back of his head, his blush dying down. He sighed, and Aaron could almost see the exact moment the poor bloke crossed the shame event horizon, carrying on gamely despite all his mates and Aaron’s mother (and secret lover) earwigging besides. He lowered his voice, leaned his long frame further across the bar.

“I came out to my family a few weeks ago, kind of burst out of me with all the jokes about when I’d be dragging some bird down the aisle as well. They’re mostly fine about it, but they’ve not eh, not _seen _me with anyone so I think they still don’t think it’s totally real? I – “ he laughed, shaking his head again. “I’m sorry this is way too much. Basically, my brother is an arsehole, and him and all his wanker mates have dared me to come and try get your number.”

“Right,” Aaron said, glancing in the direction of their table. A couple spun around from where they had been turned around, watching, and the whole group guffawed like they’d nothing better to do than lower the IQ of the entire room.

“You don’t have to give me your real number, or anything, you’re probably not even - just – you’d really be doing me a favour, just to stop them pecking my head about it from now to the honeymoon.” His voice lilted hopefully at the end, and Aaron counted his lucky stars that the Dingles weren’t so insufferable. He remembered Cain making his jokes when Aaron came out, and Adam was obviously a mess in, around, and all over it, but he knew underneath that they loved him. That they were okay with it. More than, even. Just happy that they wouldn’t be trying to reintroduce him to an air supply again any time soon.

Aaron thought about it for a moment. “Why’d they pick me? There are other lads in here.”

Charlie blushed again and Aaron quite enjoyed it. A lovely pink to match his lips. “They, eh. They saw me lookin’ when we came in.” He cleared his throat, and Aaron heard a soft coo from his mum where she was standing behind him, superfluously rearranging the contents of the mini fridge.

“Oh,” Aaron said. He smiled. A small one.

He’d been joking to himself earlier but maybe there was something magic stitched into this sweatshirt after all.

“So it’s my number then,” Aaron clarified, an idea forming.

“Yeah,” Charlie grimaced, seemingly unaware of Aaron’s smile. “If you don’t mind just playing along.”

“I don’t mind,” Aaron said. “Can even do you one better, I reckon.”

Charlie tilted his head, confused, and Aaron reached out over the bar, hooked a finger in the collar of Charlie’s shirt, and reeled him in for a kiss.

Charlie froze, and the pub went silent. Aaron pressed his lips to Charlie’s firmer, and felt Charlie relax, a long sighing breath exhaled through his nose. Aaron chanced a flick of his tongue against the line between Charlie’s lips, and Charlie opened up to him, sweetly. Aaron was surprised then by Charlie slipping his tongue into Aaron’s mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile into it, recalling the spark of ferocity that had entered Charlie's face when the stag group had been chanting at him. Shy, retiring, and a very good kisser, as it turned out.

Aaron pulled away gently and pushed the tray of drinks towards Charlie, who took it, face dazed and grinning. “Good luck with that lot,” he said. He raised his voice a bit, “They seem like a bunch of bellends.”

Charlie walked away with the tray, backwards – risky manoeuvre altogether – and Aaron winked at him.

“That was nice of you, love,” Chas murmured, smiling at him proudly.

“Yeah well, not everyone gets the supportive family shtick, do they.” Aaron bumped her shoulder with his, watching as Charlie set the drinks down at the table, spine a little straighter than it had been when he’d approached the bar, one or two of the party reaching over to give him a tentative slap on the shoulder, obviously unsure of bro-tocol in the situation.

“Spose not,” Chas said, bumping back. “Speaking of supportive family,” Chas said, clasping her hands in prayer position. “Change a barrel for your old mum?”

“It’s take take take with you, ain’t it.”

“We can’t all be as _giving _as you,” she replied cheekily. “So the barrel?”

*

Aaron emerged from the cellar wiping his hands on his jeans, and was immediately pushed back into the hallway wall.

“How’d you get past my mum?”

“She’s a woman, not a dragon,” Robert said. Then considered. “Came in the back way.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you did.” Aaron shoved Robert off him, and went into the back room. Robert followed him.

“So I take it that was for my benefit?”

Aaron turned around. “What?”

“Snogging the face off of some lad in the bar you don’t even know just to get a rise out of me – “

“Hang about, that had _nothing _to do with you – “

“Pull the other one, Aaron, I was sitting right there.”

“Right, so now anything I do within a what – 25, 50 foot radius of you is automatically about you? Charlie needed some help.”

“Charlie, is it? Do I hear wedding bells?”

“Not unless they’re echoes of yours you pillock,” Aaron snapped. “You have no right. None, Robert. You have a fucking wife, you don’t get to kick off when I meet other people.”

“Bit more than meeting them, though, wasn’t it? Unless there’s a new handshake with tongues I don’t know about.”

“Grow up, Robert.”

“You kissed another man right in front of me!”

“And you married Chrissie in front of me!” Aaron barely held back from yelling. Even now, even _now_, still thinking of Robert’s privacy, still protecting this sordid, nasty, beautiful thing they had. “Even when I begged you not to. So if I want to flirt with someone else, I can. If I want to kiss someone else, fuck someone else – “

“Pfft. You want them, then? Some arsehole who’d’ve sooner offered to buy a blowjob from ya than taken you out on that date, or a 6ft tall shrinking violet type who wouldn’t know how to fuck you right if you gave him a manual.”

Aaron felt a nerve twitch in his neck, watched the smug shield lower over Robert’s face. He’d had it.

“What is it you want to hear exactly, Robert? That I’m spending nights staring at the ceiling wishing you were there with me, kicking my shins instead of your wife’s? That I want you to choose me even half as often as I choose you? That I want you? That no one else makes me feel the way you can? I don’t know why you spend so much energy telling me not to hurt myself and then step in to do it for me!”

Robert’s smirk dropped, eyes softening as he took a step forward, extending a hand. Aaron smacked it away.

“You’re right, I don’t want Walter, or Charlie, or anyone else. I want you! And it’s rubbish, Robert, waiting around for you to choose me. You’ve made it pretty clear you’re not going to. Fine, I knew what I was getting into I guess.” _It’s not fine, it’s not fine at all. _“But I can’t keep waiting for you to choose me just for the night. Why shouldn’t I want them? _They wanted me!_ I know you don’t think much of what they were offering but honestly they’re offering me more than you are. Single. Out. Choosing me.”

“Aaron, I love you,” Robert moved in close, cradled Aaron’s jaw in his hands. Aaron’s eyes fluttered closed. He could feel his heart beating in his teeth, deep in his stomach. He was one throbbing pulse and god it _hurt._

“Don’t, Robert. It’s not fair.”

“But it’s true.”

“I think – I think that can’t matter any more.” Aaron opened his eyes and took a determined step back, even though it felt as impossible as extracting an integral part of him, removing a bone without disturbing skin. He rounded the couch, just to put that safe bit of extra distance between them. “I can’t do this. I can’t have you touching me like I’m worth something and feeling worthless every time you leave me to go back to her. I’d kiss you across the bar right now if you wanted me to. But you don’t. So this is where we are.”

“Aaron, please don’t end this.”

“End what, Robert? We never even got to start.”

*

The weekend passed by so peacefully, Aaron wasn’t expecting Monday to hit like a sack of bricks through a window, but that’s what it did.

Robert left Chrissie.

It was all around the village in record time, though Aaron was yet to hear his own name come up.

“Aaron.” Aaron blinked. “Earth to Aaron. Mate!” Aaron shook his head then jumped back. He had poured Adam’s pint past the top of the glass, splashing his hand with beer, only just missing his shoes. “What is up with you, eh? I feel like I need to go check if your head rolled under your bed this morning with all your manky socks.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Adam’s forehead creased and he lowered his voice. “Mate, seriously, what’s going on with you?”

Aaron considered. If Robert had left Chrissie, what’d the consequence of telling his gobby best mate be anymore, if it got out.

“I – I have to tell you sommat. It’s about – “

“Rob!” Victoria emerged from the kitchen, plates of shepherd’s pie in hand, just in time to see her brother push through the Woolpack door. Aaron’s eyes immediately found his. He looked haggard, his jacket sitting lopsided and his hair only halfheartedly styled. But there was a lightness in his step that Aaron recognised.

“Rob, I’ve been texting and calling you like mad, is it true? You and Chrissie.”

“It’s over,” Robert confirmed, sending a trail of whispers sparking up around the pub.

“Wh – “

“Vic, we’ll sit down in a bit yeah, there’s someone I need to talk to first.”

“Who?” Vic asked, wide eyed confusion playing out across her face as Robert walked the length of the bar in confident, long strides, then pulled to a stop. In front of Aaron.

They stared at each other, eyes flickering over every detail that they already knew from nights in barns and hotels and bedrooms. But never like this. Daylit and free. Robert laid his palms down on the bar, and Aaron noticed a minute tremble in the hands he knew so well.

“Drama queen,” he murmured, low. Normally he’d have gotten away with it, but the pub was silent enough to hear a pin drop – or Jimmy ask Vic for his shepherd’s pie, still in her hand, to a resounding shush.

“Yeah well, I’m exploding my life for the man I love – “ Aaron pulled in a quick breath, darting his eyes around the pub, then back to Robert, face earnest in the way Aaron usually only got to see in private. This was the man he loved back. “I think I’m entitled to some fireworks.”

“Can’t argue, I spose.” Aaron fiddled with the beer tap, half a smile cautiously curling his mouth.

“Something you can do, though,” Robert said, sliding his hands closer to Aaron’s side of the counter.

“What’s that then?”

“Make me forget that everyone in the fucking village is watching us like their free trial subscription runs out tomorrow?” Aaron snorted indelicately, still not convinced he had woken up that morning, that this wasn’t all a dream that would end with him reaching for the cold half of the bed and gasping at the theft.

“You sure,” he whispered, wanting to be certain of what Robert was offering. What he wanted.

“Never been more so in my entire life.”

Aaron leaned over the bar, felt Robert’s hands glide up from his neck to face, felt the gaze of everyone else the pub fade away.

They kissed, daylit and free.

*

Aaron didn’t like to play games, really. Truly.

But when he did, he played to win.


End file.
